Work Text:
"You have new profile picture," Ilya noted. He was sitting in his usual spot on the sofa with Anya's head resting in his lap.
"How did you see that so fast?" Shane asked. His thumb had barely left the post button on his "new profile pic!" tweet.
"I have notifications for when you post," Ilya shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal.
Shane supposed it wasn't. He had turned on notifications for Ilya's twitter account the same day he had created his and never turned them off. He had created his twitter account when he found out Ilya had one, so he could see what Ilya was posting.
Harris had sent Shane a few pictures from his first practice with the Centaurs with a variety of different energies: one where he was focused and intense, one where he was laughing, one from a distance, clearly moving, and one with his stick balanced on his shoulder, clearly just thinking. Harris's message said, "one or more of these for the insta announcement that you've joined us? Any you don't like? Also, here's one more, I'm guessing not for insta though." The one more was Shane's profile picture now: Ilya kissing his cheek at the end of practice. The first time Ilya had kissed him in front of their teammates.
"All of them," Shane had texted back. "ALL of them are good to post."
Harris had asked if he was sure three times. He was. He still was. It wasn't like this was surprising information for anyone, and he needed to take all of the metros photos off of his profile.
"Is a good picture," Ilya said. "You look very happy."
"I was very happy," Shane said, nudging his foot into Ilya's. "I am very happy."
"Is black and white. Why?"
"Your profile always looked so cool," Shane mumbled. Even though they were married and openly obsessed with each other, it was hard to admit how obsessed he had always been.
"Wow, Hollander," Ilya laughed, "You are copying me now, yes? Trying so hard to be cool?"
I am cool, asshole," Shane laughed. He took a throw pillow from behind him on the sofa and threw it at Ilya.
"Hey! I have Anya!"
"That's why I aimed for your face," Shane smirked.
"Anyway," Ilya said, dramatically throwing the pillow all the way across the room, "I need to change mine. No black and white now."
Shane's face fell. He had felt so clever when he had the idea for how he wanted to update his account: Ilya's twitter profile had always featured a color profile picture, probably taken by a teammate, and a black and white professional photo as the banner. Shane flipped it with a color, armature shot for the banner and a black and white Harris Drover photo for his profile picture.
"No black and white?" He hoped he didn't sound as disappointed as he felt.
Ilya's face said that he did. He softened. "Not because I don't want to match! That is adorable. Hayden Pike will say we are gross. I love that. But don't you know we are pride now? Is all about colors."
Shane wanted to find another pillow to throw. "You're the worst!"
"You love me!" Ilya sang.
"I love you so much," Shane sighed. He slid over on the sofa to put his head on Ilya's shoulder.
Ilya stopped teasing. "I love you too. I will wait a few days to change mine to all colors. And photos of us. Let everyone see how clever you are first."
"It's the opposite of yours," Shane offered.
"I know. You are very sweet, moy izobrazheniye."
Shane considered the word for a minute. He knew "photograph" was a cognate, so it wasn't that, but Ilya had taken to giving him silly Russian pet names that were relevant to the conversation. "Painting?"
"Very close. Image."
"Izobrazheniye," Shane said slowly, feeling the word in his mouth.
"Pronunciation is getting better. Good vowels."
Shane beamed at the praise.
"What are you thinking of using as your new one?"
"I have ideas. Look," Ilya said, and opened a folder in his photos app.
One week later
Harris had been a little concerned about managing both of them. They both liked social media, and Ilya especially had taken to using his Twitter account like he wasn't famous and people wouldn't read the things he said.
"Fuck me!" He said, far too early on a Wednesday morning.
"I did last night," Troy smirked, half alseep in bed next to him. "Let me wake up though, we can go again."
"No," Harris groaned. "I mean, yes, but that's not what I meant. Ilya is on Twitter again." He passed Troy his phone.
@ilyarozanov81 · 23 minutes
I WILL SAY IT OUT LOUD THEN BECAUSE SOME OF YOU CAN'T HEAR: MY HUSBAND IS GREAT AND I LOVE HIM. DID YOU SEE HIS NEW PICTURES? BLACK AND WHITE OPPOSITE MINE UNTIL I CHANGED THEM. VERY CLEVER.
@ilyarozanov81 · 29 minutes
Shane is saying Centaurs social media manager will be upset with me because I am shouting at bigots in my replies and making more work for him. I say that @itssodrover would also shout at bigots in my replies
@ilyarozanov81 · 34 minutes
Some of you are being homophobic in replies to new pictures. You are wrong. New pictures are great, and I am bisexual. You should be biphobic if you want to be accurate.
@ilyarozanov81 · 45 minutes
Here is the sexiest man alive and also me without a shirt #MyHusbandIsSoPretty #NewBanner
@ilyarozanov81 · 47 minutes
LOOK AT MY HUSBAND BEING SO SILLY #NewProfilePic
Troy laughed and Harris groaned. "This is going to be my whole day."
"Not your whole day," Troy promised. "We're going to fuck in a few minutes, then this evening we'll beat Edmonton and you can post about that instead of damage controlling Ilya."
"You always know how to make me feel better. The promise of more work," Harris laughed. He loved his job. He loved it more when it consisted of Ilya Rozanov uniting stan twitter behind him.
He texted Ilya. "You've been busy."
Ilya texted back immediately. "Good pictures, yes?"
Harris looked at them again. They were really good pictures. He'd get a ton of engagement on both of them. And Ilya looked happy. Harris remembered when Ilya looking happy was a rarity.
"Great pictures," he sent back. The ones of Ilya and Shane together always were.